dolores666's photos with the keyword: Shoggoths

Lighthouse. Series New Wine in Old Bottles. A little indulgence, really. Amongst the many seldom-used drawing apps in my collection I found one that kind of mimics the good old Sonny Reader drawing tool looks. And, well, one can never have enough groovy lighthouses, does one? This one is especially luminous and the light she throws perforates and punctures sanctioned media bollocks like nobody’s business. I’ve arranged a meeting with Gorecho the poet with a view to examine in forensic detail the latest prodigious heaps-a-caca dished out stridently and relentlessly by the Guardians of Truth twenty four miserable hours a day, seven cursed days a week. The two small fishes, who organize the catering and the ex-curricular entertainment, are already deep in animated debate, bless their shiny little scales. Peace, love and an abundance of Beluga whales. www.youtube.com/watch?v=w042l9rKpzU

(New Series: Bottled Messages. No.1.) I have always dreamed of finding a message in a bottle. Two days ago I found one. In the rain water bucket outside my garden door. It came in a double bottle, look you. And a very good message it was, too. Unfortunately I can’t share it with you because a postscript informed me that it was creature-specific and extremely classified, very hush-hush. Too bad. So I’m posting a picture of the vessels and of Bubbles and BoomBoom in enraptured contemplation of the containers. You may say hello to Bubbles and BoomBoom. They always welcome cheery words and so on. You may also send them Smarties. They’d like that VERY much. Have a grand weekend, stay in the shade, drink lots of water and don’t waste any worrying energy on the impending Tory leadership “election”. Just assume we’ll end up with someone even worse that Bojo. Remember: A cada bugada es perd un llençol...

Birthdays! The Shoggoths are ten years old this autumn. They burst into my life at the end of a particularly interesting October in 2008, evolved from a Japanese frog that then became my third Cthulhu. But the Great Old Dreamer subsequently acquired a more traditional shape, with tentacles and claws and wings and all things properly Cthulhian. The Shoggies were in them very brief early days cast in the role of minions of the catnapper of R’lyeh, but almost immediately became self-regulating and took a life of their own, which event delighted me no end. Mind you, it helped that I had re-read At the Mountains of Madness again and finally made up my mind that the Shoggoths had had such a bad press, up to that moment, because H.P. Lovecraft was barking up the wrong tree, the silly old xenophobic bugger. To cut a long story short, the Shoggoths were re-cast in the part of heroes. My kind of heroes: freedom fighters, rebel slaves, free radicals; a regular bunch of protoplasmic Maroons one and all. They’ve come a long way since then. They have established their uniquely personal world and taken over mine. They have made art and music, written poetry, developed the Shoggy Brotherhood Tango and invented their own highly unorthodox version of Sumo wrestling. They have morphed into ill-behaved sub-atomic particles, starred in remakes and alternative versions of several movies, including Battleship Potemkin and Spartacus and posed for famous paintings like Velazquez’s Las Meninas and Goya’s Los fusilamientos del 3 de Mayo. Rosie has even written a sequel to Lenin’s What Is to Be Done? They also triggered a stampede of Lovecraftian spoofy pastiches (collectively renamed Myffos), so that not only Shoggies emerged but also Cthulhus, Shub-Nigguraths, Old Ones, Deep Ones, Yithians, Mi-Go, a Mother Hydra, a GorgoMormo and a Yog-Sothoth or two. They have been the best compost my mind’s garden has ever known. They continue to grow and multiply, with no signs of exhaustion in sight. Happy birthday, my rubbery darlings. Scribe’s Note. As well as the customary birthday card, I break my own rule of never posting anything longer than the mini rants that often attend my doodles and I’m posting a link to the rejuvenated version of an uplifting, stirring account of how the beloved monsters came into my life, all those ages ago, in another time and another place and when the wench I then was is now not exactly dead but certainly closer to the grave that she’s ever been. Sic transit gloria Gorgon. :-) The story so far. www.gorgs.co.uk/gossip-column Plus: The full graphic version. www.gorgs.co.uk/a-brief-history-of-shoggoths-first-cycle

The Mad Muse strikes again, Bumba help us all. And although the pic bears (pun not intended) no relation whatsoever to the subject, I dedicate it to my family and friends in Barcelona who today, September 11, sodding Diada Day, must be suffering from horrible, hardly containable urges to grab the matches and take to the streets to incinerate a few yellow ribbons. I could dedicate it to myself, for that matter, since I feel as strongly as they do about this disgraceful caper that has divided the country in two and spoiled the fun of and for nearly everybody, with the exceptions of: 1) the indepes, who are all having collective stiffies just thinking about how virtuous and superior they are and 2) the Chinese shop owners, who are making a killing selling cheap estelades and tacky yellow ribbons and silly T-shirts with even sillier slogans. Happy Diada, then, xiquets. May the senseless chickens you have set free to riot and destroy come home to roost on your thoughtless doorsteps sooner rather than later. Please note that the Shoggies have sprouted temporary ursine feet and partial claws to appear more bear-like. But this is a private joke between me and Hayao Miyazaki so I’ll disclose no more.

Bogus Heraldry aka Shoggy Apotheosis II. To call this a coat of arms would be inaccurate, not to say pretentious. But it amuses the Shoggies to play with specific terminologies and so they have cooked a mock-heraldic description for my modest (and inadequate, to be sure) attempt to capture their wondrous essence. Argent and sable with a touch of gules in a fur of bedlam on an inverted chief ordinary of Mountains of Madness and Mother Chaos. Two lazy semi-rampant Argentinian jaguars (La Aguada culture) frame the motto: One Is All and All Are One. PS. Linguistic appeal. Any Latinists willing to correct the motto welcome. It’s straight out of some online translator or other (I forget which one) and I don’t trust online translators. Thank you kindly.

Say hello to the Shoggdala. Meditate on the many facets of the Shoggdala. Address your Ooooooms to the fractal protoplasm of the Shoggdala. Sing it songs. It likes that. NB. The alien eyes in the middle of the Shoggothic mass are the eyes that grace my favourite Nepali stupa. They've been with me, ingrained in my brain cells for the longest time. Here's to you, me old china!